


Broken Wands: The First Visit

by Finryl



Series: Broken Wands [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate-Universe, Crossover, Multi, Twisted Timeline, Young!Loki, Young!Thor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-16 09:32:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7262542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finryl/pseuds/Finryl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>| A story's continuation of Mischief Managed, Never |</p><p>Upon his departure as Salazar Slytherin long ago, Loki had long weaved his work to hover above the magic-burned castle of Hogwarts. But a God of Mischief could not simply watch and not intervene - and thus he took his first step through the paths of Yggdrasil and revealed his hand to the new generation of Witches and Wizards.</p><p>The thread of time is always one that managed to twist and churn the minds of even the most intelligent. </p><p>| Incomplete |</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: A Parent's Mercy

**Author's Note:**

> | To Briefly Catch up on the story: Basically Loki was Slytherin, choosing to intervene with the rest of the founding members when he spotted the hints of magic on Midgard. - If you'd like to see the full story, simply click away to my work series of "Mischief Managed, Never" | 
> 
> Cheers, Folks.

The fingers wrapped around his neck remained there as it tightened, attached to arms bulging with muscles as it held him firm against the wall. Loki clenched his jaw, tilting his head away as he attempted to steady his gasping breaths. His legs weakly kicked against the figure holding him there, yet his small stature did naught to hinder the man’s strength.

Loki struggled - the magic that had laced his hand useless as the magic-resistant glove remained upon his neck. red covered his vision, his hand turned blue so swiftly in the corners of his eyes. Loki had faltered - noting the change so quickly spreading. This wasn’t possible: this was just another dream, just anothe rdream.

Even is captor had chosen to reveal a flicker of surprise from beneath his hood. 

“Get off my Brother, you worthless filth!” The sudden roar of the pitiful insult could never have been sweeter to the trickster’s ears. As clumsy as Thor was in his daily life - when he struck the man, he did so with frightening strength and accuracy to the fellow’s jaw. Thor had his attention away from Loki, coming from a distance and merely focused towards the attacker - the shadows shielding Loki’s visage, yet his clothings were enough to reveal his identity.

Gasping, spluttering as he was dropped from the attacker’s grip - the young Loki looked helplessly as his weakened stare directed itself unto his brother’s brawling figure. He fought and pinned the hooded one easily - his strikes hitting in a brutal and berserk manner, contrasting to Loki’s usual calculated moves.

No, please. Thor - don’t kill him. His mind screamed in the silence of his lips. Not for me, please. I don’t understand whats happening.

Thor’s actions were ruled by fierce anger, and his strikes blew the man’s hood back to reveal merely one of the Vanir. Yet as weakened - and distracted - as Loki was, he noted swiftly the mark of an exile branded upon the man’s temple: a thief? Perhaps the least of his disappointment - to be cornered by a petty thief - as the stranger’s features twisted to a sneer, emitting the harshest choked cry as he was pounded upon the wall. He turned his gaze to the whimpering and cornered Loki.

“Monster.” He uttered towards Loki, his resistance to Thor’s defence falling limp. The Exiled Vanir crumpled with a knowing smile - just as Loki turned his gaze down to the fading blue in his hand, and the darkness returned-

To be replaced by the dimmed light of his room.

 

 

 

 

 

“Loki?” 

His eyes fluttered gently to open at the sight of his mother, heavy breathing emitted from his lips. Loki clutched meager hands to his mother’s own, a wail of despair choked from his lips. It was just a dream. “Mother. Mother, its another dream. Am I a monster? Where's Thor?"

There was no surprise lining his mother’s features upon his words, merely sympathy and understanding. She had told him multiple times that the dreams that came were simply that - yet they continued, as if memories he failed to recall. But how could she understand? 

“It will be over soon, Loki. You won’t remember a single thing - my beloved son, go back to bed.” She whispered in response, head tilted to the side opposing her. And Loki wondered why she was crying - did he make her cry? 

Only then did Loki see his father, Odin, knelt before them with glowing palms. He laid it upon Loki’s forehead with a rare gentle touch, soft incantations under his breath as his eyes trained upon Loki’s own. Why does this feel familiar?

“I… I don’t understand. Mumma? Papa? What are you doing?” He moved to sit up, but merely to be pushed down again. Why weren’t they explaining to him? Why was he blue? It happened for weeks and weeks, each day with a new dream in his head. But he could not understand, each did not make sense - he was not blue, he never experienced those things; but they felt so real.

They felt too real.  
But they were just… dreams?

 

“Hush, Loki. You won’t remember any of these bad things.” His mother urged, the calming tone of voice only briefly tempting his heart to stop hammering upon his frail chest. “You’ll remain my son, always.”

And so he wailed, as if Odin’s palm burned his head. He thrashed and screamed, asking and begging them for help. Yet piece by piece his mind forgot and shielded the boy from his troubled dreams - and this encounter with his beloved parents in a dimmed room of a silenced palace was just a forgotten and hidden dream, another one locked from his own knowledge.  
Dreams were merely dreams.


	2. Chapter 2: My own Descendant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> http://fyeahlokisif.tumblr.com/post/70613451787/lokis-age-is-1048-years-old
> 
> Used this for Loki's age, just to get rid of my headache. So this is by 2011  
> this makes Loki 1014 by the time this story is set. Which makes him equivalent to a 16 y/o in Asgard. Eesh  
> I could go on about how old he would've been when parading as Salazar, but that would be dragging on.  
> Anyways

_Present time_

**He toyed** giddily with the woven strings upon his fingers. Magic coiled around him as naturally as he breathed, and it twisted to form strings latched unto his fingers. They drifted down towards a moving image of a castle, filled with bustling children wearing black and scarves of green; red, yellow or blue. The strings itself caused mayhem, tripping those at rather awkward times - or forcing things to fall from their hands without much explanation other than a sudden gust of wind. Loki _loved_ toying with his favourite mortals.

With a small chuckle emitting from his lips, he retracted his hands. The image faded away as he ran his hand through it - as did the strings and coiled magic around his figure. Nevertheless the tingle of his magic remained within the tips of his finger - and Loki wriggled it playfully at any passing servants, the residue of magic creating mere sparks. It never failed to amuse him.

Passing Servants were right to be wary of him. The Second-born prince was not exactly the nicest, his tricks ranging from idle to heart-wrenching cruel.

 

He came from the utmost top of the palace, where the small garden overlooked Asgard. It gave him the more powerful signal to call open a 2nd degree portal - a portal designed to look upon a designated place, and allow the caster to view through it; or meddle, if he had the power to do so. _Of course_ Loki had the power to do so.

 

He slowly made his way down, aware of the sudden lack of Servants. He passed the quiet area of the castle, to the most quiet. He could have chosen the hidden passages, but the magic woven and passwords carved were too much of a bother for him to regard properly. With a scoff, he gradually entered the busier halls.

 

The Trickster easily concealed himself from those who looked from him as he entered - he knew far too well that Thor would have wanted to invite him to his morning hunt, with Sif and the Warriors Three. Alas! Loki had little want to meddle with fools that possessed the intelligence o-... well, he doubted such a thing even existed within them. He waved his hand to his thoughts, accidentally sending sparks that broke through his conjured concealment - at _quite_ the most unfortunate time.

"Loki!" Fandral greeted, the Dashing Swordsman not at all startled by the sudden appearance of the Second Prince. "I knew that you were hiding from us!"

"Oh?" He did not conceal his amusement - oh no, Loki smirked rather thinly as he greeted Fandral with a mere raise of his brow. "It only took you five centuries or so, did it not?" Though it was far-stretched to say that Loki would consider the man his close friend, he did not exactly despise him as much as he had the other Friends of Thor. Partially for his sly tongue and wit.

 

"Come now, Loki - surely you can spare a day to venture the wilds with the company of Thor!" He urged, slinging his arm around the Trickster's thin frame. It was a friendly gesture, as he reassuringly squeezed his hand unto Loki's shoulder. "With you, it shall be The Odinson Princes, Sif and the Warrior's Three!"

"I'm afraid not - with me it shall be Thor, The Warrior's Three and the _Two_ Shieldmaidens." He pointed out rather grudgingly, yet he did not resist as he was led on to a path contrasting to his previous one. "That is, if I even have the honour of being called a ShieldMaiden."

"So glum, so glum." He chided, Fandral poking his nose accusingly. "Your elegance should be present to shame the rest of us - and of course, who could forget your magic? Who was it that lulled the Dark Elves to sleep whence we accidentally killed their pets? Or when Thor lost his hammer, and you alone thought of the idea to _dress_ him like a woman?"

"I did." Loki agreed rather smugly, prying himself from Fandral's hold once they neared the opening doors of the castle. "But as Dashing as you are, you do not sway me. Perhaps another time, when Sif and the others learn that they cannot trust Thor to march them with a proper plan and even hope to succeed in whatever it is you all do every hunt."

With that he meandered off once more, casting not a single look back to the blonde haired man. And yet, Loki wore a the calm smile before the storm - Fandral always was a charmer. But he had things to do, far greater things to do.

 

“Be present at dinner, my Prince!” Fandral called after him, the halls echoing his request. “I’ll be sure to catch your most favourite meals.”

  


 

 

* * *

 

He regarded himself in the mirror of his chambers. His build was far less than Thor - _Loki scoffed at the thought, everyone's build was far less than Thor's._ The trickster shook his head with a rather weak frown, attempting to distract himself from his thoughts. It wasn’t exactly something the trickster was proud of, but it was undeniable that being in Thor’s shadow was not exactly the most pleasant of places to be. "Oh shut up, you stupid head."

He concealed his sigh as he moved his gaze down to his attire. The arm-bands gleamed at his sides. It easily concealed his wrists carved in magic runes - a precaution encase he ever was at the brink of death. What it does, Loki would rather not know - but the runes were a gift from Amora, and he had no trouble accepting it from his closest acquaintance. Friend was still too strong of a word to use. The gold was definitely eye catching in the midst of his darkened attire - coat black and lined with grey, falling to his knees. A sorcerer attire if one were to look closely - comfortably falling on his body as to allow flexible moves, runes glowing faintly upon the fabric, and devoid of furs and leathers that could dull and weaken his magic.

 

Well, he didn’t look _too_ shabby.

  


_It is now, or never._ Loki mused with a slight smirk, quite proud of his knowledge on Mortal sayings, _Well, never is too strong a word - but it is a mortal saying._

 

He shook his head in amusement. The mortals took the word ‘never’ so easily.

 

He swiveled on his heels to depart. The Second prince of Asgard flipped a small and oddly shaped dagger from seemingly thin air - only the departing mist of green hinting at the summoned magic. The dagger itself was curved and wavy, something to be laughed at by the other of the Aesir if they were to see it wielded. It didn’t exactly look threatening, more like a blade for show. But Loki knew it was his departure ride.

  
  


He raised it above his head. The metal glinted for a moment, and as he struck at thin air - it grasped hold as if breaking through paper, the sound of the ripping fabric between Asgard and the world tree screeching through his room. Loki Skywalker, he was not called such without reason. He walked the ‘skies’ - or the Yggdrasil, if one were to go in detail. The world tree welcomed the walkers with the gentle whispers of the wind flowing through the rip created. A door to walk upon.

  


Loki thought of Midgard - the Diagon Alley he had previously toyed upon. With a nod, he stepped through the broken tear. Though previously devoid of light and merely dark, the world around him faltered and images crashed past him. He walked through what one would call a ‘tunnel’ - though Loki knew it was the hollow branches of the tree. The cracks of the bark revealed the cosmos and stars beyond his knowledge - crackling above him was the creatures of the tree, things of far greater power than his own.

His tunnel kept leading on, and on - the images continuing to shift around him.

 

To describe his path would be difficult. To walk yggdrasil to a specific area and not simply the realm, one must have the  perfect image of what their destination was to be. The images around them would have to paint the world, before molding to _actually_ be the world itself. The most dangerous part was the cracks.

 

He held on to the thought of the mortal world. The branching tunnel did not seem to have an end, but the images surrounding him contorted gradually to a blurred image of the bustling wizarding street. Loki simply went on, a smirk on his lips as he sent his gaze straight to the building slowly sharpening in his gaze. Soon enough, the tunnel was no more - the image sharpened to reveal Diagon Alley. The image fell, the image crumpled, and Loki was now in the midst of the alley with wizards of different origins hustling past.

 

Oh how he missed thi-

“Stop standing around like a bloody idiot!” The snarl took Loki quite surprised. A Gryffindor boy, easily spotted with the red and orange scarf coiled around his neck, gestures in exasperation to another boy from Slytherin - who happened to stand in front of the door to  Ollivander’s. “Are you blind or something?”

 

“Did you know, there is this word … _Please?”_ The Slytherin mocked, leaning on the door frame with a rather coy simper. “I wouldn’t know if a brute like you knew manners, but I’m not supposed to judge people I don’t know. And of course, I wouldn’t know properly the lives of mudbloods.”

 

Loki tilted his head. Referring to the boy as a ‘Slytherin’ or ‘Gryffindor’ was rather awkward, as it was basically repeating his own name and Godric’s as well. Foolish young Godric Gryffindor.

 

“They’re arguing over petty words.” A voice claimed by his side. The boy didn’t wear any indications of belonging to Hogwarts, wearing well-tailored clothes of his own instead. Platinum hair fell to curtain a long face, tied to a pleasantly neat ponytail at his back. “Honestly, I don’t understand these second years.”

 

Loki turned his head towards the boy. He didn’t look at Loki yet, so Loki had the time to subtly change his features to match those of the boy’s age. Around 14, Loki would assume, in Midgardian years. He didn’t exactly look that much older, he knew that though he was _centuries_ ahead - but it wouldn’t hurt to look a bit younger. After all, he was a shapeshifter - and it wasn't too much of an effort to make himself look a _tiny_ bit younger.

 

“Well?” The blonde boy looked expectantly to Loki.

 

“They’re rather easy to understand. Second years seek to prove themselves to their house groups, and are far too attached to the common stereotypes in order to fit it.” Loki snarked back, his words hastily put together as he snapped himself from broken thoughts. "One tries to act like he rules the streets, the other acts like he's the most powerful in the streets." 

 

The boy looked rather insulted. "Slytherins ought to not bow down to Gryffindors." 

"Nor should they waste time arguing petty things to them." Loki pointed out.

 

He seemed satisfied enough with the answer, tucking a loose strand of platinum hair with a small nod - directing his gaze now fully to satisfy themselves unto Loki. "Hail to you, then, Stranger. This one greets you as Lucius Malfoy." 

 

Loki contemplated on that for a moment. He had followed the Slytherin line rather closely, after he had produced two pureblooded children with a close pureblood acquaintance of his before his departure. Proud, powerful, magic wielding half gods - a boy and a girl. The girl had produced some children with a family called the Gaunts, then another who chose to marry a 'muggle' - someone riddle, if Loki bitterly recalled correctly. The boy, however, continued the line Loki was proud of; and yet fell into obscurity soon after.

_And now, to be a Slytherin or not be a Slytherin._

He found it amusing, how the boy would react to be talking to  _the_ Salazar Slytherin. But Loki satisfied himself to be his own descendant from the side of the boy.

"Charmed to meet you, Lucius of house Malfoy." He greeted, his voiced laced with charm as easily as it was for him to blink. A swift bow was taken, raven locks hiding the hints of a smirk as he remained low - before rising himself once more. "Alistaire Slytherin, a pleasure."

 

Lucius froze. 

 

" _The_ Slytherin?" He questioned in a rather suspicious tone. "Are you  _sure?"_

 

 

Loki resisted a grimace from coming to his features - he didn't exactly know how to prove this to the Malfoy boy. "Yes, I'm quite  _sure."_ He retorted with a slight frown, crossing his hand in front of him stiffly. He didn't remember mortals to be  _this_ questioning. "If you'd like, I'll be glad to..." He paused here, unsure. One look at the Malfoy boy once more, he knew that he had to convince him quickly. "...Show you my Gringotts bank." 

 

Lucius narrowed his eyes, regarding the black haired prince of Asgard with a suspicious stare. He had long forgotten the two squabbling students he had previously complained about - now trainning his gaze to asses 'Alistaire'. 

 

"Do lead on."

 

And so that was how the second prince of Asgard, also known as Salazar Slytherin, became his own descendant.

 

 


	3. Chapter 2: The Company of Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki is now officially Alistaire Slytherin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Altering their birth dates a bit, just to make life easier for the story.

Loki wasn’t sure what he _was_ doing. Through their walk - unpleasant silence, may he add - he had been weaving crude magic in his existing Gringotts bank, noting the presence of the dragon quite warily. He filled it  with more recent items sold in the current century, and all the riches he had conjured may have been a tad excessive. The room itself already existed, he made it long ago just to store all his magical belongs away from Asgard. He was a _god,_ Loki scoffed lightly, he didn’t need riches to feel powerful.

 

“What are you scoffing at?” The boy inquired, his voice soft but firm. A demanding tone Loki was familiar to, though the Aesir were… more harsh with their volume and pronunciation. This boy was delicate.

 

“Why I have to prove this to you.” Loki mimicked his tone, though his was more of a reprimand than a demand. He came here to visit, not be a guide to some silly wizard brat.

 

“Well, why should I believe that you’re a _Slytherin?”_ The platinum head turned towards him, long strands of hair gently tucked once more behind his ear with easy grace. “Any dim-witted peasant would, perhaps. But I’ve never seen _you_ in Hogwarts, and you look far too old to be with the first years.”

 

“You didn’t believe me, so it seems that some dim-witted peasant wouldn’t.” Loki scoffed once more, tuning him out. He needed this Gringotts vault to be flawless. His pride was at stake.

 

They approached the towering columns of the bank, the gargoyles eyeing them with a beady, watchful gaze as they passed. The long walk of Goblins stretched for them - the stamping of paper, the stacking and weighing of items clicked at Loki’s ears. They paid little attention to the young figures passing them, focused instead on their _far_ more important tasks. Only the head Goblin bothered to acknowledge them with a simple grunt, peering over with narrowed eyes.

 

“Alistaire Slytherin.” Loki pronounced easily, suddenly very aware of the attraction quite suddenly placed upon his figure upon the mentioned name. When Loki made his vault five centuries ago, he was hand-in-hand with his own son and acting as Salazar’s brother. Now he was a simple boy, with unknown origins. “I believe that my family _does_ occupy a Gringotts vault?”

 

The Malfoy boy was looking expectantly now at the head Goblin.

 

Loki produced a key from his pocket, one he could have conjured in his sleep (Admittedly, if he had to keep on doing magic to prove his identity - he’d collapse of exhaustion in a day). He didn’t need the magic to be there physically, the key was made in his previous visit and already laced to connect with the vault through runes. Thor had once said that the most dangerous skill Loki possessed was his runes. Loki thinks it's simply his words.

 

“Come with me.” The slither of the words past the Goblin’s mouth made it easier for Loki to breath. He didn’t exactly expect failure, but his confidence in the wizarding world was not as it once was. He wasn’t Salazar anymore.

 

Loki _relished_ the sickness on the Malfoy boy’s face. It was he who made Loki go through all these troubles for a visit. A decade in this realm wouldn’t hurt, but having to spend all his energy on restoring the glory of a shabby old vault wasn’t pleasant. Of course, being splashed down by a waterfall wasn’t so pleasing either- and it took a majority of his remaining magic to not even raise the alarm and keep his facade. This was _too_ tiring.

 

The sudden jerk of the cart almost made him cackle, watching the elegance falter from _Lucius._ He stepped away swiftly from the cart, offering the boy a sly wink as he wandered off with the Goblin. His walk was easy, letting calculated steps fall atop of each other - occasionally halting to wait for the rather flustered Malfoy boy.

 

“Here.”

 

The Goblin smacked a hand on a circular door - the Aesir runes painted at the front (That wasn’t something he could avoid, his magic deprived from _their_ runes. After All, Frigga was his teacher for more than two centuries.) The glowing of certain parts did make him uncomfortable, wondering if they would enchance too many magical signals that could potentially attract Heimdall. Oops.

 

“Come, unbeliever. I shall show you the true glory of the Slytherins.” He strode to the door, placing the key in its proper hold. The _click_ made him smile, he wasn’t that experienced with the mortal instruments of keys and locks - but runes was more secure. “Not this half-blood Tom Riddle I’ve heard about.”

 

A sharp intake of breath was given, and Loki paused. He didn’t exactly know the weight of his words, the Riddle boy was not someone he bothered to keep track of after his birth. With a raise of his brow, he glanced shortly back at Lucius - before pushing open the door.

 

-

 

Well, nostalgia wasn’t a familiar feeling, but it has been centuries since he created the room.

 

The walls towered in a spire shape, supported by columns with repetitive runes placed on them as a barrier protection. At the end’s center was a portrait of Salazar (Dear lord, he did choose quite a dashing disguise back then.) in his prime, black hair mimicking Loki’s current one - but a more dulled green eyes speckled grey. His clothings matched his century, a long wool robe to shelter him from the cold - high collars and furs settled on his shoulders. As imposing as he looked on the painting - a calculating, sharp expression - Loki simply found it a bit … sad.

 

“Merlin’s beard.”

 

His attention was once again snatched at the Malfoy boy - gawking at the familiar carvings of snakes on the wall, stretching and coiled to point towards the wand supported in glass. Oh yes, his old wand. The other relics were simple enough - piles of sickles, knuts and Galleons. He snatched a bit of that, pocketing them swiftly with a low whistle. He did admire his quick conjurings.

 

Now the wand was a bit tricky. That wasn’t something he could control - too hard, too emotional, _too alive._ If he took another wand, his Salazar one would be writhing in its place - and his magic would be flawed, lest he relied on wandless magic. But if he did take Salazar’s wand… well, the Malfoy boy would perhaps screech and demand it to be put back. Such a _priceless_ item shouldn’t be at the hand of a fourteen year old boy.

 

Oh well.

 

With his back turned towards the boy, he snatched the wand - ignoring much of the protests made by the boy. He turned around, only to meet the sudden slap in the back by the boy - who gleefully laughed as he _guided_ them both to the entrance.

 

“Well, I do believe you now!” He crowed, much to Loki’s surprise. The boy seemed to have forgotten all about his reluctance, his chatter drifitng past Loki without much thought. “Bloody hell, wait till mother hears about this.”

 

Loki opened his mouth, rather amused by the mortal’s ways.

 

“Did you hear about the sniveling muggleborn who went against the ministry?”

 

“Where have you been all these times?”

 

“Wait, what happened to Salazar Slytherin?”

 

“...Hello?”

 

Loki simply patted his head, sauntering off.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

The pair did soon coincidentally pass a friend of Lucius, and another, and another yet - until they were a proper group of five people.

 

Severus Snape, a boy with hair as long as Loki’s disguise and as inky black. But he was more scrawny where Loki was lithe, and his hair overly greased and tucked away from an intelligent but far too fearful gaze.

 

Regulus Black, a boy with  a soothing voice but arrogant words sprouted. His dark brown hair fell in slightly curled strands to his shoulder, and an identical shade of brown in his carefree eyes. He was at least a year older than they were.

 

Bartemius Crouch Jr, who hated it when Lucius mocked him by calling him Junior. He shared the least care-free attitude of the group, instead more sarcasting and leant more on insults meant to wound than to joke. With his Straw-blonde hair, and a rather sullen gaze, he regarded the Slytherin merely with a respectful but rigid nod of his head.

 

“So _are_ you going to attend Hogwarts?” Snape inquired, his hand curled around the cup of ice cream ordered in Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour. The fidgeting boy seemed to always comically get a ‘brain-freeze’, what such a thing was; Loki unfortunately did not want to know for now. “I’ve never seen you around.”

 

“Oh Severus, don’t be rude.” Regulus chides, his arm casually thrown unto Loki’s chair. “Don’t judge his teachings, he’s probably been home-schooled. A tad bit old to be home-schooled, but them Slytherin folks probably are a powerful bunch - smart ‘nuff to teach their kids themselves.”

 

Loki - well, he’d better start referring to himself as Alistaire - nodded in agreement, taking bits of the ice cream with little interest to actually finishing it. Too sweet. “Mmhm.”

 

“What about the magic regulation?” Severus frowned, brows furrowing. “You’re too young to cast outside of school.”

 

“We have warding spells.” Loki shrugged, his lie coming easily from his mouth. “Blocks ministry magical signals. Used mum’s wand, which traces back to her - not me.”

“Smart folks don’t need incompetent teachers from Hogwarts.” Bartemius grunts with a shrug of his shoulder, snitching a bit of Lucius’ ice cream - though the pale boy did not protest. “Or stupid brats who hang out with mudbloods mingling with ‘em.”

 

“Are you calling _us_ stupid?” Lucius gawked, his dignified posture straightening even more so.

 

“Yes, you pansy.” Bartemius guffawed, patting the platinum-haired boy in the back reassuringly. “With your stick-figure, you ought to stay home. I feel as if I could break you with a small _pat.”_

 

Lucius shifted in his seat, tilting his chin up. Bartemius was more gentle and joking with this group, Loki noted - so different to the one he met on the streets, playing tricks and insults to passing first and second years. But Lucius merely offered a wink to Loki, as if he knew what the God was thinking.

 

“Yes but little Severus here is our smartass.” Regulus growled mockingly, reaching to ruffle the scrawny boy’s head in a teasing manner. “Ey, half-blood prince?”

 

Severus seemed to flush a deep color of pink upon the mention.

 

“Is he a prince?” ‘Alistaire’s brows raised, rather genuinely intrigued by the mention. “Half-blood?”

 

“No, no. He’s a half-blood, little Severus.” Lucius noted, though he didn’t have a trace of disgust in his voice. “But he’s all brain and no brawn - so he’s come up with all these cunning tricks with us. And he’s in _Slytherin-”_ The table’s occupants snorted a bit at his stress on the word. “- non-purebloods there are good folk if they prove themselves worthy.”

 

“And how does one prove themselves worthy?” Alistaire mocked, toying with the sleeves of his suit. Loki was dressed as a fourteen year old boy, wearing a fine coat trimmed in silver - the mark of slytherin boasted on the pocket stitched in his chest area. He should feel a bit ridiculous.  

 

Regulus offered a rather wide grin at that, a sly wink sent in the direction of Bartemius. The straw-blonde boy reached over the table and smacked Black’s head with a huff.

 

Lucius seemed to have caught sight of the action, though his attention fixed on Alistaire. He chuckled, a weak shoulder rising to a shrug. “Different every time, you just have to prove how cunning and resourceful you are. Bartemius here, for example - got tricked and had his clothes stolen whilst he was in the quidditch shower stalls. Trapped in there with nothing to hi-”

 

Bartemius covered Lucius mouth with his hand, shaking his head in a rather insulted manner - jaws clenched. “Alright, alright. We get it.”

 

Lucius seemed adamant on getting his mouth free, the pale boy offering Bartemius his cup of ice cream as an apologetic gift. The two were stuck in a joking argument, and Loki offered an amused smile in return. This wasn’t _too_ bad.

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

He, Lucius, and Regulus went to leave together. Severus and Bartemius went home early - Severus claiming that he _had_ to be home early before it was to dark, and Bartemius going home with his ever-scolding father.

 

The trio chatted easily, Alistaire finding himself in a far better mood than before. Though the other two did most of the talking, admittedly. The Malfoy family - as he found out from Lucius - was a well known and respected pureblood line, one of the most wealthy families in the wizarding world. Lucius explained that _of course_ it was an honour to meet a legendary family member - and the name Slytherin itself thought lost. Well, Loki smiled bitterly at that, I dread to know how Helga and Rowena's line is faring.

 

“So where have you been all these times?” Regulus’ question was fluid, the trio chattered easily and the two had no hesitance on asking questions to the Slytherin boy.

 

“Mum and Dad are in another country, they’re not social folks.” Half true, they’re simply a realm away. “I had been planning to visit for some time - but we've no more manors and properties for me to live in here. This was supposed to be a one-day trip. Mum wanted me to socialise in truth - she said I _should_ go to school instead of merely in the company of my brother.” Definitely true.

 

“Why not come to Hogwarts?” Malfoy urged, brows arching as he came to a halt - pointing an accusing finger at Alistaire. “You should come to Hogwarts!”

 

Alistaire lifted his shoulder to a frail shrug. “I never got the letter, I suppose. Its too late - isn’t it?”

 

Regulus shook his head, placing himself between the two and pulling them close as he threw both his arms around each of their shoulder. Regulus was like Thor - he easily patted you, or threw an arm around your shoulder - but he was more gentle.

 

“‘Course not. Lucius’ Dad can make anything happen, I assure you.” He drawls, his arm relaxed on Alistaire’s shoulder. “I give you my word.”

 

“Your word means little, but thank you.” Lucius chuckles, an elegant hand raised to clasp Regulus’ hand and attempting to throw it off him. “Get off me, you smell like Sirius. The boy has a dog fetish, I bet. Always smell so… _ew.”_

 

Alistaire raised a solitary brow.

 

“Oy, thats my brother you’re talking about.” Regulus huffed, shaking his head. “Idiot.”

 

“Your Gryffindor brother.” Lucius teased.

 

The other two was too busy bickering, thus Alistaire planted his gaze ahead. The street of Diagon Alley was more quiet as he observed - only a few people passing the streets here and there.The lights were far brighter now - though some shops were dark as the large sign of ‘closed’ was plastered on their doors.

 

“Regulus…” Loki begins - the amusement laced his words as he tapped the taller boy's shoulder. He tilted his head, his gaze meeting the approaching figures with slight wariness as they seemed to be heading straight towards the bickering duo. “I think I’m looking at a mirror pointed to you.”

 

The two bickering came to a halt upon ‘Alistaire’ talking - turning their head to the direction he gestured towards. Lucius was snickering by his side, whilst Regulus openly made an exaggerated sigh.

 

The boy leading them was shorter than Regulus, Loki noted - as he approached them. He had the same hair and eyes, a care-free attitude; though his seemed more rebellious and wild. At his side was another boy with dark brown hair - round glasses, and green eyes protruding to meet Loki’s. He was whispering something to the copy of Regulus, a smirk playing on his lips.

 

“Shit.” Regulus groaned, moving to place himself in front of Loki and Lucius.

 

“Who _is_ that?” Alistaire, or Loki… Honestly he’s confusing himself - asked. His figure shifted to tilt away from the two approaching, and to face Lucius.

 

“That, is the first Gryffindor you’ll be encountering - and your introduction to how to avoid them.” Lucius remarked, as their gazes turned back to the duo who approached.


	4. Chapter 3: Gates

“Regulus.” The boy greeted, regarding Regulus with a lazy smile upon his lips. “I see you’re breaking your bedtime rules, mummy and daddy might be a tad angry; don’t you think?”

 

“I got permission, if you’d like you know.” The tall boy grunts, his body structure stiffening to a defensive stance. Loki observed from behind, brows arching. “I think they’d be more angry about the fact that you’re not in the house - I thought you were grounded, Sirius.”

 

“At least I know to have good company when I sneak out.” Sirius chuckled, and he muttered something back to the one with round glasses without turning his head and gaze from Regulus.

 

“Does good company include dogs?” Lucius arches a thin brow, stepping forward. His robes fluttered in the chill of the night - the gentle features narrowed as they regarded the duo present with them. “You know I heard a rumour that you ah… slept with dogs.”

 

“Good thing they’re rumours, then.” The round-glasses boy shrugged, his hands stuffed within his pockets as he rocked his figure side to side on the balls of his feet. “Otherwise, I’d be convinced that you’ve been sleeping around with Severus, Malfoy.”

 

Lucius scoffed. “You’re an idiot enough to believe them even if they are rumours, Potter. Besides, at least Severus knows how to count to ten.”

 

As Potter stepped forward, Loki noted his crooked and cracked glasses. He was tall, but not as tall as Regulus. In Loki’s current form - he would’ve towered slightly over the black-haired boy. 

 

“Lets calm down, shall we?” Loki cleared his throat, intercepting through the passing argument with his voice firm - like a knife slashing through a straightened paper. “I’d rather not attract attention at night, in the dark.”

 

“Scared of the dark, little boy?” Potter turned his attention towards Loki - meeting the cold gaze reluctantly. Though ‘Alistaire’ was not imposing in height, his features were pale and sharp - long lashes covering certain, venomous green eyes. 

 

“No. I’m merely worried for Children who snuck out from the house, and apparently has a level of intelligence akin to my dog’s.” Loki huffed, tilting his head. “And I don’t have a dog.”

 

Potter opened his mouth - though he closed it promptly. He did not know who this dark haired boy was, and he had no insults to sprout to counter his.

 

“Another minion of yours, Lucius?” Sirius mocked, clenching his jaw.

 

Before Lucius could retort, Loki himself stepped downward, meeting James merely a step away from him. He raised his hand, and with a swift flick of his hand - and a small murmur of  _ oculus repairo  _ under his breath (He was still getting used to this  _ bloody  _ spellwork) - he aimed it towards Potter’s glasses. The cracked glass repaired itself, just as Potter raised his wand to aim at Loki’s chin. 

 

“I’m sure that  _ you  _ don’t want to be breaking the ministry regulations, Potter?” Loki murmured, placing a dainty hand on Potter’s wand. “Besides, I just fixed your glasses - one should feel thankful.”

 

He felt those behind him shift - and Sirius seemed to have already drawn his wand as well. He had a feeling Lucius and Regulus was not standing idle.

 

But as his hand touched the wand, green mist curled from the tips of his finger to lace around Potter’s wand. It wasn’t harmful - just a trick Loki wanted to play. His gaze rests firmly on Potter - who, for credit, did meet his gaze evenly. There was something in those eyes that reminded Loki a bit of the reckless and young Godric Gryffindor.

 

His powers expanded. He murmured a few things under his breath, taking a swift step back as he released his grip on Potter’s wand - drawing his own with an expectant gaze. Even if he had not said things out loud, the pouring green mist coiled around his figure - the sigil of the Slytherin snake taking form, it’s head looming over the small boy’s figure. 

 

Potter relented in their staring game, snatching his wand away and breaking away the mist coiled around it. “Petty tricks.” But he did not take his eyes off the snake sigil conjured.

 

“Mmm.” Loki smiled. They were all alone, and he had casted enough magic to alarm them of his presence. With a wave of his hand - the mist disappeared, falling suddenly to form a haze over his feet before departing.

  
  


Lucius placed a hand on Loki’s shoulder, guiding him back with a sharp hiss. “You’re not supposed to do magic outside of school boundaries. Your wards can’t protect you here.”  A sharp and astute comment, Loki would’ve congratulated. But that's exactly what he wanted, the Ministry’s attention.

 

Loki ignored him, even as he felt Regulus shift to stand behind him as Lucius did. 

 

“What now, Potter? You ought to go home.” There was a defiance in the boy’s eyes, not arrogance - simply a ready stance, if Loki should draw his wand again.

 

At last, he motioned for Sirius to follow him with a grunt. The boy cast a glance towards Loki once more for a moment, before trudging off with wide steps. Sirius was behind him, this time - with an awkward shuffle back and a reluctant last smirk at his brother.

  
  


Loki felt his shoulders droop. He was tired, admittedly - lips curling as he regards the disappearing figures.

 

“Alistaire…” Lucius shifted behind him, casting a worried glance towards Regulus.  

“You really ought to watch your magic, the ministry will  _ surely  _ be alarmed-”

 

“Lucius, sh.” Loki made a dismissive gesture of his hand, using the other to pat the boy’s shoulder. “You worry too much - come, the next time you see me; it shall be in that school of yours.”

  
  


Alistaire made a mocking bow, nodding his head to Regulus as he noted the boy’s silence. “Bedtime.” He reminded him, though more as a light jest than anything else.

 

The brown-haired boy chuckled, dipping his head in return as well. 

 

Loki twisted on his heel, sauntering away as he made plans on how in Odin’s beard he was going to be accepted into Hogwarts.

 

* * *

  
  
  


Loki ended up having tea with the minster Eugina Jenkins. She was a weary woman, it seems - with tense shoulders and not even the nerve to pick up her tea.

 

Loki, on the other hand, was on enjoying his tea.

 

“Mr. Slytherin-” The awkwardness of how she said his name was painful. “- you’ve been casting magic outside of school, it would seem.” 

 

Loki opened his palm in a gesture of surrender, though he simply went on with drinking his tea.

 

“And from your story, you’ve been homeschooled by your parents - of whom you refused to share the locations or name of.” She continued, her head tilted to regard the little figure on the sofa far too big for his stature.

 

“Minister - you must understand, the house of Slytherin is a very old and powerful one.” Loki did not mean to boast, he was simply stating a fact as he placed his cup of tea down. “I’m only the age of fourteen, but I assure you my knowledge would be far greater than those trained in Hogwarts. My parents are competent, do not doubt that. Furthermore, our location is disclosed due to nosy wizards and witches who seek to find us - either in harm, or plain curiosity, we do not want it. Nor do we want to have the ministry looming over us.” 

 

“That is a logical reason, however that does not break the fact that the Ministry controls the location of Witches and Wizards for their own safety - and to ensure the peace is kept between the muggles and ourselves” She counters, lips thinning.

 

“We’ve not broken any laws, we’ve stayed hidden from both muggles and  _ you.”  _ He leant back in his chair - slicked back hair idly toyed with as he twisted it on his index finger. “My apologies - perhaps I should go back, then. It seems we are not welcomed back here without suspicion.”

 

“Mr.Slytherin, please. It is not such - your actions today with the casting outside of boundaries is a far more pressing concern.” She diverted the topic elsewhere, the hand placed on the arms of the seat moved to be clutched on her lap. “We cannot leave you unattended if you seek on wandering around, when the Ministry of education highly advises you to experience a proper schooling - in terms of being social and experiencing things outside your home, of course.”

 

Loki smiled. He was directing her perfectly.

 

“Woe to me, Minister. I may be too late to join a school - and of course, I’d  _ gladly  _ follow in my ancestor Salazar’s path and perhaps try Hogwarts. Alas, perhaps the school year has started - I know not, the true family of Slytherins have long been absent.” He curled his lips, attempting to place on himself a heavy sigh. His figure stiffened,  head shaking slowly.

 

“It has not started no - the Ministry could of course offer you a place. It would be easy, the Headmaster would surely not refuse.” She waves a hand, offering another thin smile. The woman was simply all for efficiency. “The train has departed, sadly. You’ll be apparated or use the Floo as a way of transport. The books and the rest shall be sorted later-  the Ministry of education was adamant on the assurance that all wizarding children be able to enter a schooling program. As well as this, such will be your punishment - if it can even be called such - for casting out of school. It ought to teach you the current ways from your  _ years of  _ absence.”

 

“Wonderful idea, Minister. Such is a lovely and marvelous thought.” Loki stood, offering a cheshire grin. “Of course, as our deal struct - I do agree to attend the school. Hogwarts will be so, very lovely.”

 

* * *

  
  


Loki pressed his back against the ill-constructed Tavern of the Leaky Cauldron room. He was tired, his disguise faded. Too much magic for a day, too little time.

 

But he had spent a bit of his on conjuring the image of Frigga in the room. The lush glow of green in the background clashed with the dull brown of the room. Frigga herself was standing, brows furrowing as she regards Loki with a tender smile. She was still talking as she watched Loki sink down to a seated position, staring up at her with a cheeky smile.

 

“And so you return to the world which caused you so much pain.” She murmurs,  lips offering a knowing smile.

 

“You know I simply could not resist.” He chuckled,  running a hand through his hair. “Thor has his fantasies of breaking down enemies in war - I simply want my own fantasy.”

 

“And such is not bad.” She  nods, bending down to follow with his decreased height upon his seating. “I will explain it to your Father. Thor has been worried, Loki - all of us are. Your magic do you too well.”

 

Loki offered a guilty expression, curling his lips inwards. “They should know I travel without their consent every day, Mother.”

 

“They do, Loki. But it is hard for them to understand.” She admits, her hand cutting off from the conjured image for a moment as she reaches for something. She brings forth a white flower, barely bloomed  and still sprinkled with water. “But we will always worry.”


End file.
